I am obsessed with numbers.

rocking back and forth in front of someone else's computer screen,
I sit in a sturdy burgundy office chair as two people make out in the
living space before they fall asleep. the spotlight of the screen blacks
out all other sights and I can only sense them through hearing.

now there is deep breathing. I take a sip of beer, yes, after tasting
the last smoke of the Green Goddess (whom I now release). agony,
that has been the state of the disunion for my blog-o-sphere. no,
I have yet touched the mounds of Livejournals, Xangan thoughts,
tribe sketches (not to mention the fast deteriorating infrastructure
surrounding Multiply and Blogspot) since I left for California.

the wedding was beautiful -- can I put it in any other uncertain terms?
to know that my sister's compliment was, "you made me cry, Bubba,"
made the weeks of fry cooking all worth it. standing before a crowd,
and without the hesitation that once failed me in the fourth grade, an F
because I could not get up and speak, so overwhelmed by fear... all
of that fear has now subsided. I stood before two families united and
found that all I could do was entertain them. was there a dry eye in the
house? I don't know because the only real moment (besides the pleasure
of ushering in my great-grandmother...) I paid a lick of attention to was
seeing her welled-up eyes as I thought, "Yes, Jenna, I am proud of you."
(for her choice in husband AS WELL AS her choice in wedding dress)

the first place beyond the Santa Ana airport that gave me pause was
the church in which she was to be wed. the statue of Mary carried
many necklaces and I only received blessings from the space. I must
have smiled so largely as she pointed out the installations of holy water
at the entrance, I must have raised my eyebrow in wonder as she touched
it, rose it to her forehead and made the sign of the cross. Catholicism
is truly beautiful to me.

beyond my disgust and distaste for the inflated consumer culture in
the state, it too had it's beauty. my botanical sense was appeased,
the hills were alive, and the second thing I did upon arrival was set
foot in the sands and damp of el pacifico.

I cannot say that it was an easy trip, and for that, I thank Los Angeles.
the angels (theirs be the truth) bring mercy to our lives, though the mercy
shown me was horrible to behold, if I may be so (word). I made choices
which are irrevocable, hard choices whose intent I now question. I spent
many hours deconstructing the walls I have made towards my family. now
I find myself constructing new ones.

what challenged me most were the words of so many of my family's
elders to me. often, I have found myself at the outskirts of their tribe
and cannot reasonably find a way to communicate with them. even so,
the level with which they reached out to me was one of compassion.
I became so focused on one of my relatives that it was difficult for me
to extend that compassion to others.

that was my mistake.

to be continued ?